


Clean Up On Aisle 5

by RomanoffonamoR



Series: Marvel Cinematic Littleverse [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Play, Army, Big Peggy Carter, Bigs and littles are known, Gen, Little Maria Hill, Littleverse, Maria Hill needs a hug, Maria is a Little who is pretending to be Big, Marvel Cinematic Littleverse, Negative Self Talk, Non-Sexual Age Play, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Past non-canon character death, Unreliable Narrator, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 15:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11739573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomanoffonamoR/pseuds/RomanoffonamoR
Summary: Twenty year old Maria Hill has a panic attack in the middle of Walmart and drops into her Little headspace.An elderly Peggy Carter comes to her aid.





	Clean Up On Aisle 5

 

Ten minutes, that’s all she needed. Just ten minutes to run in and grab a few things to eat, and maybe some shampoo if she could manage it. And some toothpaste. Oh and a toothbrush. And some deodorant. And _fuck_. She was going to need more than ten minutes wasn’t she?

Fuck hotels for having shitty food and shitty toiletries, and fuck the Army for sending her home on administrative leave. She didn’t need this. She didn’t want to be here. She should be back in Afghanistan with her men, not having a freak out in Walmart in the middle of Shitsville, Illinois.

_But your men are dead, Hill._

_You left them to die, remember?_

Maria blinked rapidly, shaking her head as she tightened her grip on the shopping basket in her hands. She couldn’t do this here. She couldn’t become Little. Why hadn’t she just gone to the hotel first instead of out shopping for supplies? Everyone was already staring at her in her combat boots and fatigues, if she actually _dropped_ in the middle of Aisle 5, then that would be just the absolute worst thing _ever_.

_Even worse than getting blown to pieces by an IED?_

_Or worse than bleeding out from shrapnel wounds in the middle of the fucking desert?_

_They’re all dead because of you, and you should be dead too._

“No, no, I can’t do this. I can’t do this now,” Maria dropped her basket and pressed her hands to her eyes, her breath coming in short gasps as she felt the panic attack coming. She was going to drop. She just knew it. She was going to make a huge scene in fucking _Walmart_ and the Army was going to find out because of course she was wearing her uniform and her name was right there on her god damn chest for everyone to see.

“No!” she gasped, before clasping a hand tightly over her mouth. She couldn’t do this. She had to get out of the store. Get to her hotel where it would be okay. She could be Little in her hotel room and no one would ever have to know that she was lying about being Big. That she had lied on her enlistment forms, lied to her superior officers and to her unit. Her men had trusted her not to get them killed and she had lied and now they were all dead and it was _all her fault._

“No!” She took a step forward, eyes wide and frantic, her heart thundering in her chest. The exit was nearby. She hadn’t made it very far into the store. If she could just find the damn exit she would be alright. She just had to get out of there and she would be alright. Taking another step forward she walked right into the basket she’d forgotten she’d dropped and stumbled. Losing her balance, she teetered awkwardly for a moment before falling face first to the dirty laminate floor.

*****

Little Maria was in pain. And not just ow I stubbed my big toe pain, but her entire face felt like someone with really thick boots had decided to do jumping jacks on it. Sitting up in shock, she shakily brought a hand to her nose, letting out a sob at the tender contact. Her fingers came away with something sticky and red on them and she stared at the blood for a good five seconds before bursting into tears.

Where was she? Why was she hurt? Did someone hurt her? Was she in danger?

She scrambled to her feet and pressed herself against the nearest shelf, eyes darting up and down the aisle at all the strange and scary faces turned to stare at her. Was one of these people bad? Had they hurt her? Or was she the one that was bad? She didn’t know what was going on and sobbed even harder in her growing distress.

“Miss, are you okay? You’re bleeding, should we call for an ambulance?”

Maria looked at the faces that were coming closer to her and panicked, pushing away from the shelving unit and accidentally knocking a bunch of cans of soup off one of the shelves. The painfully loud staccato of them hitting the ground had her suddenly bolting down the aisle.

She knew that noise. That was the _bad_ _noise_. She was supposed to run and hide when she heard that noise.

So she ran down the aisle, pushing past more strange faces and nearly tripping a few times as her shoes were a lot heavier and clumsier than she was used to. She understood she was in a store, that she wasn’t in the sandy hot place, but she’d heard the bad noise and so she had to hide.

Rounding the corner at the back of the store she nearly knocked over a young couple and their cart as she skidded to a halt. There was a furniture display with a strange looking couch with a blue blanket over it and she knew she could fit under there if she squished herself flat enough.

Dropping to her knees and then to her belly, Maria shimmied her way beneath the futon, not stopping until she was as far under as she could go. The floor was covered in a thick layer of dirt and dust and it stuck awkwardly to her wet cheeks as she desperately tried to quiet her sobs. She wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding if others could still hear her.

“That’s strange. I wasn’t aware Walmart had begun selling scared Little girls.”

Maria whimpered at the sudden voice, lifting her head enough that she could see a pair of shoes coming towards her.

“I wonder, however, if she’s in the right department. The children’s section would make much more sense. Or perhaps the infant section. I believe there is a crib on display just a few aisles over. Yes, that would be a much more appropriate place to sell an upset Little girl.”

“I’m not a baby,” Maria spoke up between her sobs, feeling the need to correct this person even if she was supposed to be quiet. She rubbed at her face as she continued trying to calm herself down, watching as the shoes stopped at the edge of her hiding spot. “And I’m not for sale,” she threw in for good measure.

“Oh, well I’m very glad to hear that. Selling Littles is a terrible thing indeed. Though I must ask, since you’ve cleared up that this atrocious looking sofa isn’t actually a display case for sad Little girls, would you mind terribly if I used it for its intended purposes and sat here with you for a while? I’m afraid at my age my stamina isn’t what it used to be, and my poor feet could very much use a break.”

Maria sniffled as she listened to the woman speak. She had a voice like the people in the Harry Potter movies and even though she couldn’t see what she looked like, she sounded caring and kind. Like Ron Weasley’s mom. She’d always liked the scenes with her in it. It made her feel warm and happy, and she often wished she had a Mommy just like her.

“Whilst I normally insist on verbal consent, in this case I’ll accept your lack of verbal objection as agreement. I really must sit down before we both end up on the floor.”

Maria watched as the pair of shoes turned around and suddenly there was a creaking noise above her and a firm pressure against her back. It wasn’t enough to squish her or hurt her, but she wouldn’t be able to move now without the woman above her feeling it.

“Oh yes, that’s _much_ better. My dear friend Angie used to always tell me that at our age we should be wearing sensible shoes, but I’m really rather stubborn and quite fond of these ones. They remind me of shoes I used to wear as a child.”

Maria had only ever seen shoes like hers in old people magazines. They were black and white like a panda and really, really shiny. She’d never owned shoes like them before herself, but imagined they were much easier to walk in than the boots she was currently wearing, and they were definitely prettier too.

Turning her face so her cheek was pressed into the floor, Maria found herself relaxing finally. Her sobs had turned to sniffles, but she didn’t feel scared anymore. She felt safe and protected with this strange older lady sitting on top of her, talking to her like it wasn’t weird for her to be hiding in the first place.

“Excuse me, Ma’am?” A new voice spoke up, shattering Maria's growing calm. This one was male and sounded much younger.

“You’re excused, young gentlemen. Will that be all?” Mrs Weasley responded back and Maria couldn’t help giggle at the confused noise the boy made in response.

“What? Uh, no. It’s just, the girl beneath the futon. She’s Little right?”

“That would appear to be the case, yes.”

“Well you see, we uh, the store has a policy of no unattended Littles.”

“And that’s a very wise policy. It’s a good thing she’s no longer unattended.”

There was a pause as the boy seemed to struggle with his words. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but we saw her knock over a shelf in the canned goods section. She made quite a mess before she ran over here.”

Maria whimpered at this and brought her arm up to cover her face. She’d made a huge mess and was in so much trouble! She felt her panic returning and wriggled as best she could to try and get further away from where the man was talking. She couldn’t see his shoes but she bet they were really ugly.

“If you’re worried about the cost of any damages I will gladly write you a check to cover it. Would you like it now, or may I continue with my shopping first and drop it off later?” Mrs Weasley didn’t sound at all concerned that Maria had done a bad thing. It almost sounded like she was defending her. That had never happened before and she felt her chest growing warm and tight as she continued to listen.

“It’s not the money, Ma’am. It’s the store’s policy. If she’s Little and she doesn’t have her Big with her, my managers told me I had to ask her to leave. We could get in trouble if she hurts herself or someone else.”

“So you would send an unaccompanied, blatantly distressed Little out into the streets in order to avoid what? A lawsuit? Is that what you’re saying young man?”

“Yes, but it’s not my rule. It’s the store’s rule-“

“No, you listen to me carefully son. In my day it didn’t matter all these rules and regulations. If a Little was alone and upset and it was in your power to help, then that’s what you did. I don’t now where this girl’s Big is, or even if she has one, but in their absence I have taken it upon myself to be her caretaker for the afternoon.”

“But she’s technically not yours, Ma’am. Legally we can still be held liable-“

“Oh for heavens sake! Am I going to have to call the head of this establishment and inform them that a young gentleman in their employ is harassing a frail, old lady, as well as threatening to throw out onto the streets an obviously traumatized member of the armed services, who also happens to be in her Little state? Would you like me to do that? Because I’ve got my phone right here and I’m sure that your boss would just _love_ to get a phone call from Margaret Carter, decorated war hero and subject of numerous documentaries, some of which I believe you carry in your Entertainment department.”

Maria was having a hard time following everything the woman was saying, her accent growing thicker the longer she talked. She understood Margaret Carter though. That was a name everyone in the military knew. But was it actually _her_ sitting on the futon? Or was she lying just to scare the boy away? Maria didn’t think she sounded like she was lying. She sounded strong and confident, something she wished she could feel herself.

“Um, It’s, Uh, I guess I should go. I’ll uh, I’ll tell my manager that she’s yours.”

“Swell! You go ahead and you do that. And if any of your co-workers try to bother us I really will make that call.”

“Yes Ma’am. Of course Ma’am.”

“It’s Miss Carter. I did just tell you my name, did I not?”

“I mean, yes, Miss Carter.”

“That’s a good lad. Now run along, I have other more important things, or should I say _people,_ to attend to.”

Maria could hear footsteps moving away and released the breath she hadn't realized she’d been holding. So it really was Margaret Carter sitting on top of her? She knew she was famous but was having trouble remembering the details other than she was friends with Captain America. She wondered if maybe before she left the store she could find some of those documentaries. Unless they were too scary for her. She didn’t want to watch any scary movies, even if they had the nice woman in them.

“Are you alright little one? I do apologize for that young mans behavior. In the old days it would have been appropriate to take him over my knee and teach him some manners, but I digress.”

“I’m okay,” Maria responded softly, the panic slowly receding once again, leaving her feeling tired and heavy and like she needed a really, really long nap.

“Would you like to come out from beneath there and sit next to me? It must not be too comfortable all flattened out like a pancake.”

Maria wasn’t comfortable. Her face still hurt and now her back was hurting too. She wasn’t supposed to take naps on the floor; that was one of the rules. “Okay.” It took some maneuvering, especially since the weight on top of her back hadn’t let up, but she managed to worm herself out from beneath the futon and up onto her knees.

Margaret Carter didn’t look anything like Mrs Weasley, but that was okay. She still looked warm and inviting, and even if she was a lot older Maria still had the desire for this woman to be her Mommy. She sniffled a little at the thought. That was also one of the rules; she wasn’t allowed to have a Mommy.

“Oh my dear good heavens, just look at your face! Come here sweetheart and let Aunt Peggy get a better look at you.”

Maria was a little startled at her outburst but still climbed up onto the futon next to the woman. She curled up with her legs to her chest and her face pressed atop her knees, until she felt a hand gently touch her cheek. She winced, but only on instinct. Miss Carter’s touch was soft and gentle as she directed her to lift and turn her face for better inspection.

“Well it doesn’t look like anything is broken, but I bet it still hurts a great deal, huh? And your cheeks and mouth, you have blood all over you! But don’t you worry I have just the thing to clean you up,” Miss Carter insisted, letting go of Maria’s face to search through her purse. She pulled out what looked like a pack of baby wipes and Maria couldn’t help but recoil at their assumed purpose.

Peggy Carter took one look at the little girl’s horrified face and began to laugh, shaking her head quickly as she pulled a wipe from the pack. “Oh my dear sweet girl, no, that’s not what these are for. It’s to clean the blood from your pretty little face. You’ll feel a lot better once you’re clean and no longer sticky.”

Maria didn’t like feeling sticky and so nodded her head, watching as the woman tried to hand her the wipe. She knew she should take it, that she was a big girl and could wipe her own face, but she felt frozen and helpless and like she might start to cry again.

“Would you like me to do it for you?”

Maria nodded quickly, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall.

“Alright sweet girl, just try to hold still so I don’t accidentally hurt your poor little nose.”

Miss Carter took her chin in her hands once more and gently began wiping the blood from her face. It hurt a little when she cleaned up around her nose but Maria made sure she held completely still and didn’t make peep.

“You’re doing such a fantastic job holding still, my love. You must be very brave. I bet your Mummy or Daddy are very proud of you.”

Maria flinched at her words, but didn’t pull away. She liked Miss Carter’s gentle hands on her face too much to move away. “I’m not brave,” she insisted quietly. She had been hiding beneath a couch up until a few minutes ago, how could this woman think she were brave? “I’m not brave. I’m bad.”

“You are not bad my love. Little girls are never bad. I’m an old woman who’s been around more than her share of bad people, so you can trust that I know what I’m talking about.” Peggy Carter insisted as she pulled a fresh wipe from the pack and began to clean the few places she’d missed.

Maria didn’t want the nice woman to think she was bad, but she also knew that she wasn’t supposed to lie. “But I _am_ bad. I ran away,” she explained, keeping her eyes on the woman’s hands and not on her face. She didn’t want to see the moment when Miss Carter decided she didn’t want to be kind to her anymore. She knew what that moment looked like and she never wanted to see it ever again.

“Sweetheart, you are not bad for running away. And you are not bad for making a mess either.”

The woman sounded so sure of this, but Maria shook her head, pulling away from her grasp. “Not here. In the hot sandy place. Everyone got hurt and I was scared and ran away. I was bad and they sent me home because they don’t want me anymore. I’m not brave. I’m _bad._ _Bad Maria_.” She was crying now and tried to climb off the futon to crawl back under it but a pair of arms wrapped themselves around her and tugged her back.

“It’s alright, Maria, my love. I’ve got you. Aunt Peggy’s got you.”

Maria shook her head as she was brought into the woman’s lap, wanting to resist but not having the strength to. Bad girls didn’t get hugs, they got spankings. And even if she deserved it, she really didn’t want a spanking.

Only Miss Carter wasn’t trying to place her over her knee, and was instead pulling her against her chest and into an embrace. Maria knew she wasn’t supposed to allow this, that it was also one of the rules of being Little, but she was honestly too upset at this point to care. And the hug, even if it was undeserved, felt really, really good.

“That’s it darling, just lay your head right here on my shoulder and it’ll all be okay.”

Maria did as Miss Carter instructed and laid her cheek on the woman’s shoulder, her still tender nose lightly brushing against her white and grey locks as she cried. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I ran away. I’m sorry.”

“Hush now, you have nothing to be sorry for. War is a terribly scary place, even for us Bigs,” Peggy Carter explained softly as she rubbed a hand up and down the distressed girl’s back. “I was a bit older than you at the time, but when I was on the battlefield, sometimes the best option wasn’t for me to fight, but instead to run and get to safety. Being brave doesn’t mean you have to foolishly sacrifice yourself. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is to simply keep yourself alive. Even if those around you, those that you care for, are no longer there.”

Maria stayed quiet as she listened, the thrum of the woman’s voice reverberating against her chest was just as soothing as the hand still moving across her back.

“There will always be more battles, Maria, and someday you may be called upon to help fight them once again. You are strong, and you are caring, and you are smart. I have no doubt that one day you will be a hero and you will save countless peoples lives. But you have to stay safe and you have to stay alive in order to do it.”

“But I’m not a hero,” Maria insisted quietly, bringing a hand up to wipe away some of the wetness on her face. Her tears were still falling, but her sobs had finally lessoned to the occasional spasmed hiccup.

“Maybe not right now, but you will be one day. I have a knack for sensing greatness in others. I guess you could call it my super power.”

There was something a little bit sad now in her voice and Maria cuddled herself further into the woman’s arms. Miss Carter was too nice and kind to feel sad like she did, and Maria thought the least she could do was be sad enough for the both of them. As she snuggled close she let out a tired, unrestrained yawn, her body suddenly feeling like it weighed a million gazillion pounds.

“Oh my dear sweet child, you go ahead and rest your eyes. I need to make a brief phone call, but I promise to stay right here and keep you safe while you nap.”

Maria slowly nodded her head, yawning once more as she felt herself beginning to drift off. The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was the feeling of Miss Carter’s arms shifting around her, and the soft hum of her voice as she spoke into her phone.

“Nicholas, It’s Margaret. About those numerous favors you owe me, I think it’s time I finally called one of them in.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I don't normally do this, but since I'm not sure if or when I'll be doing another story that directly covers this subject matter, I want to clear a few things up for you readers. 
> 
> Maria isn't responsible, directly or indirectly, for any of her soldiers deaths. She is an unreliable narrator, so the things she thinks are true aren't necessarily accurate. 
> 
> Her squad vehicle hit a roadside bomb and everyone but herself was killed instantly. There was nothing she could have done for them and so she ran all the way back to base before she could be captured. 
> 
> She became Little while running and her commanding officers mistook her reactions and behavior as severe shell shock and decided to send her home to recover. 
> 
> Peggy Carter obviously intervenes and gets her a job working at Shield. Maria's about 20 when this story takes place, which is about 6 years before the other stories current timeline. 
> 
> I feel like I'm cheating by giving you guys this information, but I didn't want anyone to think Maria might have left someone behind to die, or deserted the army entirely or something, and I really couldn't see a way to work this info into the story itself.


End file.
